by Krishna Rose
I had enkindled in us all, the memory of his words and person. Sentiments of sorrow arose in me, amid the warmth of joy which I felt at recalling these exchanges between Jesu and I. “Who will ever speak such words of consolation to us, as our holy Master?” Joanna cried, wiping tears from her cheek with her apron. “And who will again receive us so benevolently and sympathetically as he?” she wept.
All lamented together, mournfully. Still, I remained steadfast.
“Then the Master told me of the fifth bridge to be crossed—which is that of guileful manipulation, wrath, and restlessness.” He told me, ‘As long as we wish to control or corrupt for our own carefully conceived design, we shall remain within the world of falsity. Passing through these five elevations, we can at that time say, ‘That which oppressed me has been slain, and that which encircled me has vanished. My craving has faded and I am freed from my ignorance.’ Only then, are we invested with a vision of the Kingdom within.’”
“Should I go on?” I asked, and they nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes . . . go on!”
“At that point I asked him ‘Tell me, how easy is it to cross over these tasks you have laid out before us? What you teach seems in earnest to be effortless, yet unattainable in practice. People are so easily impressed by things which can be seen and touched, therefore it seems like you are asking the impossible!’ He laughed, as if he knew the truth of the matter. So I asked him further ‘Without an experience or a vision of the freedom you promise, I fear it might conceivably be daunting to presuppose the common man to give up that which can be tasted and enjoyed here and now through the body. For you are offering something promised in the future—without guarantee of any outcome.’
“To which our Master replied, ‘The bridges, measure for us to what degree we have achieved—as well as how much we have yet to travel. It was brought into existence by virtue of the higher design. Those who have ears will hear. While those who are loath to roam the inward path, toward restraint and repentance, are, by way of Providence, bequeathed inevitable and predestined suffering—which the wise wish to reconcile. Therefore, the path is laid out for us. Though few walk upon it. The journey is one and the destination is one. But only those who have ears, can perceive that which is good for their soul, and truly, it is only those rarest and wisest of souls who ache solely for eternal life. The passage is narrow and full of thorns, thus it requires persistence to navigate the way. Still we are obliged to seek out that which is free from changeable, temporal nature—if we wish to attain everlasting happiness.’ Thus the Master spoke to me, such profound teachings,” I said, restoring them by my memory of Jesu’s words.
I had throughout the experience been in a trance-like state. Sitting in silence for a moment, shivering in remembrance of his instructions, I noticed that our brethren also seemed changed—stricken by the intensity of spiritual ambition I had delivered. They sighed and wept quietly amongst themselves. The eager thirsty flock, satisfied after such intense longing, had drunk deep the things which our Master spoke of. The room radiated with the splendor of his significant, weighty words.
“Thus, did our Master speak to me of such matters of the spirit. And though we are the appointed apostles of the faithful, regardless . . . first we are instructed to fulfill in ourselves these things, which, like bitter medicine heals us. It is essential that we undertake to release and save ourselves—thereafter to go forth and rescue others. He used this example often, for we cannot give the greatest wealth when we are yet poor,” I determined.
“The Master would often sit alone in silence, seeking a glimpse of the inner Kingdom. So should we now endow ourselves with faith and fortitude, to bring into the world—comfort. Therefore, let us proceed and rely on others’ hospitality. Teach the good news. The Master is risen, the prophecy is fulfilled, and his significantly valuable message lives on through us!” I concluded.
“These things are different than what we heard the Master teach! I have never heard such things from his lips!” Peter repudiated in disbelief. “How can we know that you are not just saying these things, that ye shall be as a Master unto us?” he asked skeptically, moving around the room, obviously irritated by the things I had, in good grace, shared with them.
“Are we supposed to stand here and listen to her—a woman, believing the things she speaks of?” he asked, waving his hands accusingly in my direction. “Are we truly to believe that he preferred her, over those of us who are men? That he would give to her spiritual teachings which are so much more than what he gave to us?”
“Peter, take care Brother, she is the Master’s wife. Certainly he preferred her over us. I have no doubt these were my brother’s words, for I too heard him speak in this way. Where would she, Peter—a woman—formulate such instructions, if not from our Master?” James said in my defense, for the second time that week. “Next all women will think that they can become the teachers of men!” Peter persisted.
“Human nature can be so coarse and uneducated,” I said suddenly, roused by his insolence. “Moved by our brethren’s sorrow, I besought to lovingly console those who believed themselves orphaned,” I clarified. “I have no appetite to command thee or have mastery over thee, Peter. Our Master’s vision was beyond the bounds of a prejudiced mind. You are a man, who sees only man and woman before him. Let not your jealousy divide us in this time of turbulence,” I said courageously.
“She is ranting!” Peter mocked. “How is it possible that the Master taught her these things? She is but a woman! These are secrets such as I have never heard. Must we now change our customs and listen to an accursed woman?” he said bitterly, moving towards me in an aggressive manner.
“Enough Peter!” I said assertively, standing up to face my oppressor, looking him square in the eye—bravely. “What can you be thinking? Do you really believe that such things are of my own imagination? That I invented them? I am but a woman! I have no such intelligence,” I said, playing dumb to get my point across.
I had revealed a most intimate colloquial with Jesu, to inspire and breathe life back into the inconsolable, disappointed hearts of my comrades. And once again, I found myself condemned by my impetuous brother, Peter.
“Quiet!” said James, restoring order. “I shall not ally myself with such conduct! If you wish to be part of our brotherhood,” he said motioning to Peter. “You will refrain from your ill-tempered quarrel, or else be warned, I shall not suffer you in silence or show leniency towards you as my brother did. I am the Master’s brother and I know his will better than any, save Mariam here,” he said, coming beside me to lay a hand on my shoulder protectively. “I know emphatically that the teachings she has told us are the true and divine teachings of our Master, and that is the end of it. Who are you to doubt her?” he said, pointing at Peter’s chest commandingly.
At this, Chuza, who had been listening quietly in the corner of the room, spoke up. “Peter, you have always been hot-tempered, and now we have to suffer you repudiating the Master’s wife when she has spoken thus! The truth is, if the Master held her worthy, then who are you to reject her? Jesu was like a spring who offered water unto all who thirst—not only to men. It is time for us to atone, not quarrel amongst ourselves. I am personally filled with conviction since hearing her sermon. It was as if the incarnate word of God had gallantly spread over us like soothing balm. Remember Brother, just moments ago we were all wavering in faith. Now let us take to heart by what we have heard here today and walk forth as a family united, without laying lamentable accusations on anyone.”
Wiping my streaming tears with my arm, I braved a goodbye. It was time for me to leave. I had said more than I should have, and Peter was, as always, hostile. He had little love for me. His ability to understand such exceptional topics, was as yet, beyond his capability. And in that moment, I comprehended my husband’s frustration, therefore Jesu said one thin
g to one person and something different to another, for they could not understand him. ‘They did not have ears to hear.’
My brothers and sisters came to me, one by one, thanking me for my words of hope and persuasion. Tears were shed as we embraced and felt the enormity of what would now transpire—as I left them. Peter and Andrew, unable to rise above their quarrel, to meet the clear and entrusted teachings bestowed upon them, stood by the fireplace in the back of the dining room, with their backs turned to me as I walked out of their house for the last time.
I stepped outside into the late afternoon sun, quietly sobbing beneath my uncle’s hooded robe, which was again pulled low over my face so that I would not be recognized. I would miss my friends and home, yet I vowed never to return . . .
I couldn’t speak for hours, for Jesu’s lifeless sunken face was all I could envision.
CHAPTER 8
FAITH
Faith is to have complete conviction in one’s own self, or in another whom we deem superior in some way, either in knowledge or wisdom. With a trust that by following their example, it will be for one’s own betterment.
JERUSALEM
Romans and Jews alike, anticipated the arrival of two Messiahs, who were forecast to appear during their lifetime. Popular belief held that John the Baptist was the first. However, with the finality of John’s death, there had been no fulfillment of prophecy, for it was established that the Messiah would rise from the ashes like a phoenix. Therefore when John perished, the people of Judea had become desperate, for they were without hope of change.
Doomed to live mediocre lives, they were beside themselves with grief. Roman rule had become oppressive and the Jewish people thirsted to a greater extent, for liberation. The populace had become disenchanted, as leaders on both sides were indulgent and militant. On account of being such intensely devout people, the infestation of corruption and concealed immorality amongst their superiors, felt to them, to be like a fall from grace. The Messiah would save them from their transgressions, which they feared would otherwise be their downfall.
Our brethren largely remained out of sight. They had hoped for the emotional recovery of Thomas, after having sent word to him of Jesu’s probable resurrection. Some braved entering the marketplace to proclaim Jesu’s return from the dead—declaring the prophecy fulfilled. While others preferred to stay hidden from view, fearful of being incriminated or seized for questioning.
Largely, the apostles were now fully convinced that their Master had returned to them. Word on the street was that Jesu’s body had disappeared. Some said he had been stolen by the disciples, while others claimed he had miraculously survived crucifixion. Gossip circulated and swarmed like a deluge. Elated, the marketplace was soon full of stories. Jesu was their resurrected Prince. He was a hero, as for the first time in history, someone had fulfilled the key elements and requirements of the prophecy.
CAIAPHAS
Cold-blooded Caiaphas and his minions shook in their bones at the uncertainty of what had transpired those past few days and nights. Several of the temple priests suspected that Jesu may well have been the one that they had anticipated and been promised by God. Out of great fear, they had left their homes in a hurry to offer sacrifices, in the hope that God would forgive them—for they believed that they had sinned against the anointed one. Pride, greed, envy, wrath and sloth . . . five of the seven deadly sins, they had, contrary to God’s will, succumbed to.
Shame-faced, they bowed and prayed before the altar, vowing to renounce their shrouded sinfulness.
Meanwhile, the Sanhedrin gathered together with Caiaphas behind closed doors, to devise a plan to find Jesu—dead or alive. They had determined that should his corpse be found, he was to be paraded throughout the city, to crush the sanguine hope of those who believed in him. If he were found alive, they resolved to assassinate him in secrecy, and then at a later time, display his mortal remains through the streets. But only once rigor mortis was visible, so that none would doubt them. The imposter, Jeshua, son of Yosef, would be crushed, until nothing of him remained. Their instructions were clear.
Things had gone far from how Caiaphas had imagined it would. He wanted nothing more than to wipe out the Messianic story entirely. He had hoped that the public humiliation of the so-called King, would cause mistrust in Jeshua and his followers. The question of his being their savior would end forever, problem solved. However, his carefully crafted plan of action had backfired on him horribly. Now, with the young upstart’s body gone, the people accepted it as true that their promised leader had risen, and Caiaphas was now the most unpopular man in Judea.
Without a body to prove his demise, Jeshua’s fame appeared to be spreading at an accelerated pace. His name was the hottest topic on everyone’s lips. Caiaphas’s men spread out in and around the city. They set about their business, while secretly questioning their loyalty to him, for they too had become doubtful of his scheming plots, as he seemed unable to satisfy his own sadistic need for control. It was apparent to them that he was no longer a man defending their faith, but a suspicious, cynical, scheming tyrant, who breached Moses’s laws to assert his authority. He had become a decisive political and religious dictator.
Even so, they dared not voice their concerns, not even to one another, lest they endanger their own prickly positions and lose what they had worked for—which had been so hard to achieve.
The Romans had concluded that the gospel movement was effectually crushed with Jeshua’s crucifixion. They were now disconcerted by the increasing spread of rumors that he had survived. Greedy to put an end to such talk, which now spread upon lively tongues in the marketplace, they set about bribing guards all around the city, who were instructed to effectively counteract reports of a risen Messiah with their reiteration of the story that, in fact, a band of Jesu’s followers had stolen and spirited away his body to cause a revolt in the city.
MARY MAGDALENE
I walked slowly so as not to draw attention to myself, aware of many suspicious eyes keeping track of who was coming and going from the city. As I journeyed back down the lanes toward my uncle’s house, I was sure that many of the locals pitied me, for our wedding in Cana had just recently been celebrated. Yet in truth, I could not be sure of who was friend or foe.
Just weeks before, when it had been established that I was indeed with child—so as befits law, The Mary and her husband, Cleophas, had set about arranging for our second wedding feast. Over two-hundred-and-fifty guests attended. We had gathered beneath the large erected dinner tents, seated upon oversized stuffed pillows, lounging chairs, and woven mats. The musicians played rhythmically and our well-wishers had danced happily long into the night.
Cleophas and The Mary ensured everyone was within reach of something delectable to eat and drink at all times. It was an exceptionally joyous occasion for the whole family, as Jesu and I were finally wed after so many fated twists and turns.
At some point in the evening, The Mary came to Jesu, distressed. After whispering something in his ear, he had followed his mother into the servants’ tent, leaving me chattering excitedly with friends and family. Only later did I discover what had come to pass. Supposedly our guests had consumed the entire stock of wine, so Jesu directed the servants to fill the oak barrels with water, and then, after only a moment, he ordered them to serve wine from the barrels, which they had just a second before filled with water. Apparently the servants were confused, as surely there was water inside the barrels—yet when they looked, the water had turned into wine, and all were amazed by Jesu’s miracle.
We were so blissfully wed. Who could have imagined how quickly our fates would turn?
The Mary was at the door when I came upon my uncle’s estate. I could hear her dispensing orders, encouraging the household to move quickly. “Maria!” Jude
screamed upon seeing me. “Look, Mama. It’s Maria!” he said, pointing at me with a large grin on his face. I immediately went to The Mary and touched her feet. She examined me with a concerned look. “Mariam, thank the Lord you have come! Where on earth have you been? We’ve been worried about you!” she said in her genteel way, enfolding me in her soft, inviting body.
“I went to see James and Peter in the city after—” “Mariam listen, we don’t have time for that,” she said cutting me off mid-sentence. “Your uncle left not long after you this morning and has been gone all day. A messenger came from him, for us to leave Jerusalem immediately—for Galilee,” she said pensively. “It’s no longer safe for us here, so make haste. Solomon and Maximus will escort us,” she reported breathlessly.
“There’s talk of an uprising. Those criminals who were behind my son’s execution are not sleeping tight in their skins, of this I am certain,” she said sadly. “Their guilt and shame will shadow them the rest of their days. Oh Mariam . . . my son—my poor son,” she said, choking on quiet sobs. Tears welled up behind her long, thick black eyelashes. My stomach turned.
“Martha’s gone ahead with Sarah-Tamar and Salome. Lazarus and some of the men are escorting them,” she continued, swallowing hard. “I have sent word for James to bring John and meet us in Galilee. Maximus will soon return, he’s gone to collect Mary-Jacobi . . . I shall be glad of her company,” she said reflectively. “Immediately upon their return we shall leave.”
Pausing, as if assessing my situation, she remarked, “Mariam, my child, you must be weary,” she said kissing me on both cheeks. “These past few days I all but forgot myself. Please forgive me. I could not consider your grief, only my own. What kind of mother have I been to you? Come here my child,” she said, drawing me to her warm curvaceous body, where I wept into her mourning cloth.